Love and Life | Page 5

best of it," said Aurelia. "Soon came Miss Herries in a
straw hat, and the prettiest green petticoat under a white gown and
apron, as a dairy-maid, but the cow would not stand still, for all the
man who led her kept scolding her and saying 'Coop! coop!' No sooner
had Miss Herries seated herself on the stool than Moolly swerved away,
and it was a mercy that the fine china bowl escaped. Every one was
laughing, and poor Miss Herries was ready to cry, when forth steps my
sister, coaxes the cow, bids the man lend his apron, sits down on the
stool, and has the bowl frothing in a moment."

"I would not have done so for worlds," said Harriet; "I dreaded every
moment to be asked where Miss Delavie learnt to be a milk-maid."
"You were welcome to reply, in her own yard," said Betty. "You may
thank me for your syllabub."
"Which, after all, you forbade poor Aura to taste!"
"Assuredly. I was not going to have her turn sick on my hands. She
may think herself beholden to me for her dance with that fine young
beau. Who was he, Aura?"
"How now!" said the Major, in a tone of banter, while Harriet indulged
in a suppressed giggle. "You let Aura dance with a stranger! Where
was your circumspection, Mrs. Betty?" Aurelia coloured to the roots of
her hair and faltered, "It was Lady Herries who presented him."
"Yes, the child is not to blame," said Betty; "I left her in charge of Mrs.
Churchill while I went to wash my hands after milking the cow, which
these fine folk seemed to suppose could be done without soiling a
finger."
"That's the way with Chloe and Phyllida in Arcadia," said her father.
"But not here," said Betty. "In the house, I was detained a little while,
for the housekeeper wanted me to explain my recipe for taking out the
grease spots."
"A little while, sister?" said Harriet. "It was through the dancing of
three minuets, and the country dance had long been begun."
"I was too busy to heed the time," said Betty, "for I obtained the recipe
for those delicious almond-cakes, and showed Mrs. Waldron the
Vienna mode of clearing coffee. When I came back the fiddles were
playing, and Aurelia going down the middle with a young gentleman in
a scarlet coat. Poor little Robert Rowe was too bashful to find a partner,
though he longed to dance; so I made another couple with him, and
thus missed further speech, save that as we took our leave, both Sir
George and the Dean complimented me, and said what there is no
occasion to repeat just now, sir, when I ought to be fetching your
supper."
"Ha! Is it too flattering for little Aura?" asked her father. "Come, never
spare. She will hear worse than that in her day, I'll warrant."
"It was merely," said Betty, reluctantly, "that the Dean called her the
star of the evening, and declared that her dancing equalled her face."
"Well said of his reverence! And his honour the baronet, what said he?"

"He said, sir, that so comely and debonnaire a couple had not been seen
in these parts since you came home from Flanders and led off the assize
ball with Mistress Urania Delavie."
"There, Aura, 'tis my turn to blush!" cried the Major, comically hiding
his face behind Betty's fan. "But all this time you have never told me
who was this young spark."
"That I cannot tell, sir," returned Betty. "We were sent home in the
coach with Mistress Duckworth and her daughters, who talked so
incessantly that we could not open our lips. Who was he, Aura?"
"My Lady Herries only presented him as Sir Amyas, sister," replied
Aurelia.
"Sir Amyas!" cried her auditors, all together.
"Nothing more," said Aurelia. "Indeed she made as though he and I
must be acquainted, and I suppose that she took me for Harriet, but I
knew not how to explain."
"No doubt," said Harriet. "I was sick of the music and folly, and had
retired to the summerhouse with Peggy Duckworth, who had brought a
sweet sonnet of Mr. Ambrose Phillips, 'Defying Cupid.'"
Her father burst into a chuckling laugh, much to her mortification,
though she would not seem to understand it, and Betty took up the
moral.
"Sir Amyas! Are you positive that you caught the name, child?"
"I thought so, sister," said Aurelia, with the insecurity produced by
such cross-questioning; "but I may have been mistaken, since, of course,
the true Sir Amyas Belamour would never be here without my father's
knowledge."
"Nor is there any other of the name," said her father, "except that
melancholic uncle of his who never leaves his dark chamber."
"Depend upon